Attica wipes tears with the back of her hand. “So you see, nobody will risk that again. We just do what we’re told and try to keep out of their way.”
I speak in a low, strong voice, and everyone’s listening. I stand up to face them. “I know you’re all scared and I am too, but sometimes you have to act together. My friend Jeevan and I have traveled all the way from our village in the foothills of the Himalayas to find my papa in Zandapur.”
“And we went to the highest temple in the world,” says Jeevan, “and lit deevay for all our friends and family … If you listen to Asha we might have a chance.”
“It’s too risky,” says a boy in the crowd of faces.
“You can try if you like, but I don’t want to be tied to a post and beaten,” says another. “Anyway … they’re all in on it. Haven’t you seen the police coming in for their cut? There’s nowhere to go for help.”
“So we have to help ourselves! You need to start realizing how long you’ve all been here. Look at the sky—every night the moon changes. It can tell you how the time passes if only you’ll notice it. There’s no moon tonight, but tomorrow it’ll be like a tiny nail print and in seven days it’ll be quarter. Do you really want them to decide your future, treat you worse than animals day after day, and get rid of you when you can’t work anymore?”
Nobody answers.
“So, what do you think?” asks Jeevan.
“Yes, maybe,” says Sami. But he doesn’t look convinced.
“What makes her so special?” says Taran, scowling. “Why should we listen to what she says?”
I slump down beside Jeevan. Suddenly my doubts of the night before have come flooding back—it’s hard to be hopeful in a place like this. “Taran’s right,” I say, the fight slipping away from me. “Why should they trust me? All I’ve done is put you in danger.”
“You can’t give up, Asha … not now.” Jeevan makes me look at him. “Like you keep telling me, if you really want something you have to make it happen … We have to try at least.” Suddenly he stands tall, facing the crowd of children, while I cower farther into the corner.
“Th-there’s something else you should all know.” Jeevan throws me a glance and gets onto an upturned water bucket. He waits until they’re all looking at him, raising his hands to stop the noise. “Asha has special powers. She dreams what’s going to happen … This journey was written in her lines … She feels the spirit of her nanijee.”
“None of us believes in spirits, do we?” cries Taran, looking around at the others.
Everyone shouts at once, causing a huge uproar, some kids taking Jeevan’s side, others gathering around Taran.
Jeevan raises his arms. “Shhh … Quiet, everyone. Come on, Asha, tell them.”
I can’t believe how Jeevan’s changed his mind, but it’s come too late and I sink further into my misery. “No.” I turn away from everyone, bury my head into my knees. “I can’t do any more,” I say, tears streaming down my face.
“I won’t let you give up,” says Jeevan, putting an arm around my shoulder.
I shrug him off. “You heard them. How can I make them listen when they’ve lost all hope … when I’ve lost all hope.” I think of home and crumple a little bit more. I’m never going to see it again.
“Asha, come on, remember what you told me about the spirit bird … the things you saw in Chitragupta’s house … I know you believe them. They’re the things that make you different … make you strong. Asha, please, I need you—they need you. Think of your papa, your family.”
I cautiously lift my head, wipe my nose on my sleeve, and begin to stand up. I feel like an emptied husk of wheat, my trembling insides threatening to cave in.
Jeevan heaves the bucket across and stands on it again. “Listen,” he shouts above the noise. “You have a choice: You can stay here and suffer forever, or you can try to escape. Asha, tell them.”
As the room gets quieter, their eyes turn to me.
“They’re waiting,” Jeevan says.
I nervously pull at my clothes, twisting my hands together.
“She’s gone all shy,” laughs Taran. “She’s only a normal girl, after all. I’ve had enough of this.”
He sparks my anger and I feel it rising like an unleashed tiger after its prey. “And he’s only an idiot,” I blurt out. “Listen to me, everyone. If we all act together we can be strong—think about your ancestors, call on their spirits to help us.”
“The feather,” whispers Jeevan, nudging me. “Show them the feather that links you to the lamagaia.”
I clasp the long golden feather from my pocket and lift it high in the air. “This feather is from the reincarnated spirit of my nanijee—she lives on in the form of a lamagaia and she gave it to me as a sign. I also went to see the village witch, Chitragupta, and in her house I saw tigers and a whole jungle appeared to me. She showed me the things I’d only seen in my dreams.” As I revisit my memories of that powerful night, I begin to feel more certain. “She gave me the confidence to believe in myself … She told me that I have magical powers and that I should use them for good. She said I would know when the time was right.” Jeevan hands me a piece of string and I tie the feather to my arm.
He and I stand side by side like warriors, waiting for the signal to fight. I jut out my chin and feel a steely strength rebuilding
